


For Whom the Bell Tolls

by EvertonTiger



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Angst, Blood and Injury, CIA, Game: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War, Gen, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Interrogation, M/M, MI6, Mind Manipulation, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Set after the 'good ending', Slow Burn, Spoilers, Swearing, enemies to reluctant teammates to lovers, mild torture scenes but nothing too graphic, standard call of duty level violence, trying my best with military talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvertonTiger/pseuds/EvertonTiger
Summary: Warning: SPOILERS for Black Ops Cold WarSterling "Bell" Davies told the truth. Europe was saved, they stopped the rogue Soviet's plan, and now his mind can recover with a little help from old friends. But no matter how hard he tries to move on, Adler is stuck in his head.Meanwhile, Russell Adler continues his hunt for Perseus. He knows he did what he had to do in the Arctic. But the guilt just won't leave. Why can't he get the man known as "Bell" out of his thoughts?(Rating and tags may change)
Relationships: Russell Adler/Bell, Russell Adler/Original Male Characters(s)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 103





	1. Prologue. 16 March 1981

**Prologue. 16 March 1981**

“…it was never personal.”

Sterling “Bell” Davies knew this moment was coming. Why else would Adler bring him to the hidden Arctic wilderness? An ex-Soviet with close connections to Perseus will always be a risk. Bell just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

The next seconds moved in slow motion; Adler, turning with his pistol, his face an expression of fury. Bell, raising his own gun in defence. A flash of light, a bang, and pain blossoming out of his chest. Simultaneously, Adler grunts and staggers as Bell’s bullet pierces his side.

Bell collapses, the gun falling from his fingers. Lying on the cold, hard earth, he stares at the rolling storm clouds above him, the burn of betrayal sharper than the gunshot. Adler steps into view, glaring down at him, off-hand pressed against his wound. He raises the pistol once more, barrel trained on Bell’s head.

“I swear, it’s not personal.”

Closing his eyes, Bell waits.

…

And waits.

…

Then he hears the sound of footsteps moving away.

Slowly peaking open one eye, Bell watches as Adler sheaths his gun, sighing heavily. He shakes his head roughly, as if to clear a deep thought, then glances up at Bell. Their eyes lock, confusion meeting indecision, but Adler says nothing as he turns and begins to walk away.

“Adl-”, a savage cough rips through Bell’s throat; he tastes blood on his lips. Adler’s back tenses, his fists clench, but he doesn’t stop.

Bell is left alone, blood pooling under him as a light rain begins to fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s drifting; the pain of the bullet is weak, and the cold is no longer biting. Distantly, Bell hears a calm voice. A woman.

“For God’s sake, get that wound covered, we need to stop the bleeding.”

The voice is familiar; then again, Bell can’t trust his own head anymore. Something is pressed hard against his chest and he grunts.

 _Leave me alone,_ he wants to shout.

Another voice mumbles just out of hearing; this one is deeper.

“If Adler doesn’t want him, that’s his loss,” it’s the woman’s voice again. “An agent with his knowledge? That’s an opportunity I’m not going to waste.” Now someone is lifting Bell up and he’s placed on something hard and flat.

_Like a stretcher…no, no, what is happening? Not again, let me go!_

“Bell! Stop moving, we’re trying to save your life!” Several sets of hands grab his shoulders and calves, halting his squirming.

_No, NO, not again!_

“Sterling!” He’s shocked into stillness. No-one has ever called him that before; that was never really his name to claim. He’s just Bell.

“Sterling, I know you can hear me. Please, I need you to stay with us. I am not going to hurt you anymore.”

Gentle hands cup his face and Sterling opens his eyes. Rain hits his cheeks and above him, Helen Park smiles softy. “There you are.”

Behind her, Sims steps forward, “Doc is definitely not gonna like this.”

“He won’t know. Bell will be the Crown’s little secret.”

Finally, the blood loss is too much and Sterling slips into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Images flash in his mind. Scenes moving too fast to comprehend. Red lights, blood, there’s a steel door. Adler smoking, Park wounded, Lazar begging for help. He’s pulled away, bullets rain down; a Russian town, cryptic messages, a worn soldier uniform that fits him perfectly. There’s a chair with restraints, he resists, the room collapses.  
Adler appears again, grabbing him by the hand and helping him stand. Around them, the Arctic wind roars. Adler grins, everything bleeds red. _

_He speaks._ We have a job to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Several Weeks Later**

Sterling bounces his leg as his sits on a hallway bench, waiting for Park to leave the conference. Since his off-the-record recruitment by M16, Bell has been working alongside Park and her team investigating the movements of Soviet spies throughout Europe. With Rudnik’s death, and the failure of Greenlight, the remnant spy clusters are scrambling. Bell has saved Park many days of recon with his existing knowledge of spy movements and decryption skills.

Bell is by no means a trusted agent. He’s watched around the clock and forbidden from travelling around London alone. But he’s alive. Better than the ‘future’ Adler offered him.

Park exits the conference room with arms full of files. A folder slips and Sterling darts up to catch it, passing it back to her. She smiles in thanks and motions for him to follow. Together they move through the SIS headquarters as Park explains their next move, “We’ll be heading to Versailles, France. There’s a spark in activity which we need to stamp out before they can get a foothold.”

They stop in the lobby; another agent moves to stand slightly behind them, waiting to guard Bell to his office.  
“Prepare your equipment, we leave at 0500 tomorrow,” Park goes to step away but quickly turns back. “Oh, and Sims wanted to know what your favourite drink was. He’s stopping by with some information from the French underground, said he’ll bring it as a gift.”

Bell shrugs, “Malt whiskey, if he’s got it.”

She nods and marches to her next meeting. Bell gestures to the guard and he’s led away, thoughts racing with plans for the upcoming mission. This will be his first on-location assignment since…since…

_Stop that. It’s done. Move on._

Switching his train of thought, Sterling reflects that it’s nice for Sims to check in every now and then, although he knows it’s mostly to make sure he has not hurt Park. There has been no news of Adler at all, or any of the other CIA operatives. And Bell really doesn’t want to know.

_So why can’t I get Adler out of my head?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a multi-chapter fic. Next update will hopefully be posted soon <3


	2. Chapter 1: Lichtenberg, East Berlin. 28 April 1981

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support on the first upload! I hope you continue to enjoy this fic.  
> Also a massive thanks to my friend and editor, CrimsonMorrow <3

**Chapter 1: Lichtenberg, East Berlin. 28 April 1981**

_“It’s hard to move on when memories are pulling you back.” – Unknown_

Ash falls from the cigarette between his gloved fingers. Raising the tip to his lips, Russell Adler inhales deeply. Slowly he releases the breath and watches the smoke swirl into the cool East Berlin air. Below his apartment balcony, five drunk officers spill out the pub. It’s late, technically early morning now, and Adler’s been waiting through the night for this group to leave. His target is the officer currently vomiting in a gutter; Bren Fischer, a high-ranking soldier and suspected link to Perseus.

Taking once last drag, Adler flicks the butt over the railing and enters the apartment. Against the left wall is a wooden desk covered in classified papers and photographs. On the right is a double bed and a door to a bathroom. Agent Fox, a CIA operative from Hudson’s team, is lounging on a tatty couch near the entry.

Adler marches to the bedside and pulls out his duffle from under the bed and dumps it on the mattress next to his trademark sunglasses. He unzips the leather bag and retrieves a silenced M1911, a radio, and a short length of rope. Loading up, he slips the radio into his back pocket, hides the gun under his brown jacket, and places the rope like a sash over his chest. His glasses are pushed up into his hair on top of his head. Ready for his mission, Adler heads towards the door.

“Pack the car and clean up this place,” he says over his shoulder. “Triple check nothing is left behind. Be prepared for pick up.”

The other man nods and begins to clear the desk. Adler leaves the apartment, lowers his sunglasses over his eyes, and locks the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moving casually, Russell makes his exit through the alley of the apartment block. Quickly rounding the street corner, he’s able to spot Fischer and two other officers as they split from the rest of the group. Adler shoves his hands in his jean pockets and maintains a fair distance behind the intoxicated trio. Luckily, the streets are empty at this time of night, so no-one is around to question him. Three blocks later, the group pauses in front of a flat; it looks like one of the officers has arrived home. Adler stops in the darkness between streetlamps and waits against a wall.

Suddenly, a patrol exits a house on the opposite side of the street. Swearing under his breath, Adler swiftly moves further into the shadows; as long as they stay on the other side, he’ll be fine.

Fischer and the remaining soldier begin to move off, but Adler can’t follow. The patrol is preparing to cross the street, directly into his path. Abruptly, the squad halt as they receive a radio call. Tense moments pass; he watches and waits, while Fischer moves further and further away. At last, the patrol continues down the parallel footpath, away from Adler’s hiding spot. Breathing a sigh of relief, Adler hurries to catch up with his target.

In the time he was held back, the lingering officer has disappeared, and Fischer is finally alone.

As he trails the stumbling officer, he’s reminded of his last stint in East Berlin. Despite an initial setback, the team managed to pull through and track down Anton Volkov. Of course, it was mostly because Bell got himself captured after placing the tracker in Kraus’s briefcase.

_Bell…_

Uncharacteristically distracted, Adler stumbles on the pavement, and his thoughts are jerked back to the present. Quickly scanning around for Fischer, he almost misses his target moving into a backstreet. Internally scolding himself, Adler picks up the pace, readies his pistol and sneaks into the laneway. A short distance ahead is Fischer, bracing himself against the brick wall with his back to Adler.

With silent steps, Adler moves into position. He raises his pistol and slams in down on the back of Fischer’s head. The officer is unconscious before he hits the ground.

Russell pulls out his radio with his off-hand. “Target seized. Be at the north corner of Gasag in under 10. I’ll be in the alley.”

After receiving an affirmative, he stows the gun in his back pocket, the radio in his jacket, and begins to unravel the rope. Within minutes, he’s restrained the target’s arms and legs. His exfil has not yet arrived, so he moves to stuff the body at the back of some large bins to hide it while he waits.

As he drags the body however, he hears a call from behind him. “Hey! Was machst du?”

Slowly rising to stand, Adler twists and finds two patrolmen in front of him. One has his gun slightly extended, but they are not yet completely suspicious; it seems the body is just out of their view.

The first man continues to shout in German, “I said, what are you doing?!”

Clearing his throat, Adler replies calmly, “Sorry gentleman, I'm waiting for a friend.”

“You’re not supposed to be here! Where is your pass?”

Hand out of sight, Adler clutches the grip of his weapon, “Right here.” In a flash, he aims the silenced pistol and fires off two headshots; the guards collapse in a heap. From down the street he can hear the growing roar of an engine as a car comes towards him.

_Shit, I won’t have time to stash them both!_

Preparing for a fight, Adler stacks up against the alley wall. A dark grey sedan pulls up beside him, the window winding down to reveal Fox. “Sorry, am I late?” he jokes.

Actually, he’s not, but Adler isn’t in a laughing mood. “Shut up and help me hide them,” he snaps.

Together they stuff the guards’ bodies in the bins. Fox throws Officer Fischer in the trunk and Adler enters the driver’s seat. The first light of dawn is just beginning to crest over the horizon as Adler and his partner drive out of the Lichtenberg borough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Köpenick. Three Hours Later.**

Concealed within a dense woodland, near the shore of Langer See, is a small deserted fishing cabin. The roof is half-caved in and the dark timber walls are covered in moss. Agent Fox patrols the perimeter while Adler conducts his business inside. Fox pauses to light a smoke, his hand cupping the flame from the wind, as shrill screams drift from the cabin doors.

“Stop! _Stop!_ ”

“Tell me about your Russian contact. Tell me how you know Perseus.”

“Who the _fuck_ are you talking about!? I’ve never heard of Perseus!”

Inside the house, strapped to a wooden dining chair, shirtless and trembling, is Fischer. Various burns, lacerations and bruises litter his body. His right eye is swollen shut and blood leaks from his nose in a steady stream. Adler paces in front of him; stripped down to his black undershirt, leisurely twirling the combat knife in his hand. The duffle bag from the hotel has been left open on a nearby table next to his jacket, pistol and aviators.

Fischer strains against his binds. “Please, I don’t know what you want!” he pleads.

“Bullshit. You _do_ know, and you _are_ going to tell me,” Adler says coolly. He shifts to grab a pair of pliers from the duffle bag. “Let’s try this, hm?”

An hour passes as several more tools are used and discarded. Fox steps in after the third hour, letting Adler have a smoke break, before returning to his patrol at the fourth.

By the sixth hour, Adler is running low on patience. His t-shirt is spattered with blood and the captive is barely conscious.

“Now I don’t get bored easily, but you pal, are pushing it.” He squats in front of the whimpering Fischer and leans in close, their noses brushing. “So, if you don’t start talking soon, you’re really going to see why they call me ‘America’s Monster’,” he growls.

Suddenly, one of Fischer’s legs snaps free from the ties and he quickly slams a foot into Adler’s ribs. He staggers while Fischer tries desperately to escape the rest of his binds.

“Mother _fucker_!” Adler shouts and throws a savage punch directly into the man’s cheek. The chair topples and Fischer cries out as he’s slammed onto the wooden floor.

“Please!” Fischer blubbers. “I don’t know anything!”

Pretending the kick didn’t hurt, Adler deliberately walks to the table. “You know what? I believe you,” he says, picking up his gun. “Of course, that means you’re of no use to me.”

“No, no, please don’t-!” Fischer’s head snaps back, the bullet piercing his forehead. Blood splatters the floorboards. Adler sighs heavily as he glares up at the ceiling in exasperation.

Fox pokes his head through the door and looks between the body and Adler. “Clean up?” he asks.

Adler waves him off, “In a bit.” Fox nods and gently closes the door behind him.

Russell leans against the table as he massages his side; the fucker managed to hit his old wound, the one Bell gave him just a few short weeks ago.

_Bell…_

_He shot me. He was prepared to kill me. It was only a matter of time before he betrayed the US; I had to end him first._

Pulling a dark cloth from the duffle, he haphazardly wipes his hands and arms of Fischer’s blood.

_It was the right thing to do._

Ribs still tender from the kick, Adler winces as he slips on his jacket, then picks up his shades. He stares at himself in the reflection of the lenses.

_It was the right thing._

He frowns as another thought slithers into his mind; _so why couldn’t_ _I go through with it? Why did I leave him to die, instead of just killing him?_

He shakes his head and scoffs; there’s no time to second-guess himself, not while that Soviet bastard Perseus is still out there. Smoothly sliding the sunglasses over his eyes, Adler steps over the corpse and leaves the cabin.

He orders Fox to begin the clean-up, and lights a cigarette.


	3. Chapter 2: Langley, Virginia. 19 May 1981

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoy the new chapter! We're really starting to delve into Adler's mind now.  
> (Let me know if there's any silly errors xD)

**Chapter 2: Langley, Virginia. 19 May 1981**

_"Make sure your worst enemy doesn’t live between your own two ears.” – Laird Hamilton_

It’s 0900 on the dot when Hudson enters a small meeting room in the CIA headquarters. Inside and sitting around the oval table are Woods, Mason and Adler. Mason twirls a pen between his fingers and Woods has his boots up on the desk. Naturally, Adler is smoking with his sunglasses over his eyes. The setting is eerily familiar to the meeting in January, when Perseus was first reintroduced as a player in this war.

Hudson moves to stand at the head of the table, holding a thick case file in his hand. “Perseus and his rogue faction have scrambled all over the Union,” he declares. “It’s taken weeks, but I believe we have a new solid target.”

“Funny, you said the same thing about Fischer,” Adler murmurs, grinding his finished cigarette in an ashtray.

“I’m trying my goddamn best here, Adler. You think I can find out this shit with magic?”

“No, you don’t have magic,” Woods jumps in. “Because I know the first thing you would have done if you did would’ve been to fix that mug of yours!”

Mason chuckles while Hudson rolls his eyes. He tosses the case file onto the desk, “Just read the fucking notes, assholes.”

Adler grabs the dossier and lounges back in his chair as he reads. The first page presents a target named Major Lebedev with an attached black and white photograph; the Major is a middle-aged man with a pencil moustache and a large scar down his left eye. According to the intel, he was one of the officials who used to work at the base in the Zakarpatska Oblast, the same location where they discovered Operation Greenlight. After the successful attack on the facility, several officials retreated to outposts across the USSR. Lebedev is currently residing at a weapons outpost in the middle of the Turkmenistan desert.

“Darvaza. Right next to the Gates of Hell,” Adler reads aloud. He closes the file and passes it to Woods, who begins to quickly flip through the pages.

“Sounds lovely,” Mason remarks.

“The Soviets set fire to a natural gas pit in ’71. Unfortunately for them, it didn’t remove the gas and now the crater is permanently on fire,” Hudson clarifies. He flicks on the projector and a grainy aerial photo of the outpost appears; it’s a moderately large, rectangular, single-story building.  
“Now, Adler, when you arrive it’ll be very early morning. Our recon says this will be just after the perimeter guards rotate from the nightshift, so I suggest infilling from this side gate,” he points to the eastern edge of the photo, “You’ll have maybe two hours before the next rotation. The outpost isn’t that heavily occupied either, but I still want this one quiet. After entering the site you’ll…”

Adler crosses his arms and takes a moment to reflect over the last few months. He’s been searching over a decade for Perseus, and after coming so close to ending it in Solovetsky, it stings to lose him another time. And once again, the CIA is struggling to find reliable intel; Bren Fischer was a bust and now apparently their search will take them to a place shrouded by fire.

_Ah Fischer. He was an…interesting interrogation. He was begging and blubbering from the moment we started; I do believe he knew nothing, otherwise he would have told me immediately to save himself._

_Not like Bell at all. He was one tough son of bitch; not a peep, even during our harder methods of interrogation…_

“Hey! Adler? Are you hearing me?” Hudson demands. Adler blinks, attention returning to the room and finding the three men watching him. Was he just daydreaming?

Pretending to have been paying attention, Adler shrugs, “Unfortunately, I can’t _not_ hear you,” he replies sarcastically. Woods snorts, dropping the dossier on the table.

Hudson just raises an eyebrow, “Is something wrong?”

_No Hudson, nothing’s wrong. I simply keep catching myself thinking about our old asset who I should’ve long forgotten by now. Because that’s all he was; an asset. Nothing more._

Adler sighs. “No. I just don’t like the desert,” he lies.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re bringing Fox, he loves the heat.”

“You don’t need him?” Adler asks, confused.

“See, I knew you weren’t listening before,” Hudson mutters, shaking his head. “I _said_ he’s your infiltration support, and there will be two others to provide overwatch. I need Mason and Woods for a different assignment.”

“Yeah, sorry Shades, looks like we’ll miss the trip to Hell,” Woods says, throwing a mock salute.

Adler’s blue eyes peer at Woods over the top of his aviators, “Yeah. Real shame.”

Hudson turns off the projector and stands at ease, “Woods, Mason, let’s talk about your job. Adler, Fox will meet you at the transport. Dismissed. And good hunting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Darvaza, Turkmenistan. 13 Hours Later.**

Adler adjusts his sunglasses to shield the glare of the sunrise. Stretched out beside him, Fox’s bright copper hair shines like a red halo above his head. The two of them are wearing matching tan, short-sleeved, military garb and lying prone they blend into the dusty earth. Before them is the east entrance of the outpost, complete with guard tower and electronic gate. The whole site is fenced by tall, barbed wire while the surrounding terrain is largely flat with the odd patch of shrubs. On the ridge behind them lie their sniper overwatch.

“Alright, the sniper team will clear the targets at the gate, then you and I will charge in,” Adler instructs. “Move fast and low.” Fox nods, readying his MP5.

Shifting onto his side, Adler grabs his radio, “Overwatch, prepare to drop the guards on my count.”

“Copy, we have eyes on.”

Fox and Adler rise to a crouch, preparing to run, “Do it,” he orders.

Silently, the four soldiers drop at the gate, one after another.

“Move!” Adler whispers and they dash across the ground. Rapidly reaching the gate, Adler slides into cover against the guard tower with assault rifle in hand, dust clouding around him. Fox crouches behind a small concrete barrier. They scan the surrounds and wait.

“No sign of movement. You boys are clear,” the sniper team radios through.

“Alright, Fox let’s hide the bodies,” Adler says. He grabs the legs of one of the dead guards and drags him inside the tower whereas Fox fireman carries another. One guard is dead at the top of the tower, leaving one more at ground level. Putting down the bodies, Adler squats to search them while Fox moves to retrieve the last soldier.

“Found a keycard,” Adler tells him, slipping the card in his pocket and standing. “Let’s go.”

There is about 300 feet of empty land between the fence line and the main building.

Overwatch speaks over the radio once more, “No targets in sight, you can cross the gap. Be advised, once you’re inside you’ll no longer have sniper cover.”

“Understood,” he acknowledges. Addressing Fox, he says, “We have an hour to secure the target. Keep it silent till then, once we have him, we can go loud if we have to.”

Flicking off the radio, he signals Fox, “You first.”

The agent does one more sweep of the land before sprinting to the outpost wall. Adler waits three seconds then runs after him, sand flicking up with his boots.

Fox reaches the building and Adler joins him moments after. Together they stack up on the outpost door. Swiping the card, Adler gently opens the door and Fox enters with his weapon at the ready. Finding the immediate area clear, he waves Adler in, who steps through the door and quietly locks it behind them.

They’ve entered into a long hallway; it moves south down the length of the building, with several doors and small windows at the top of the walls. Fox takes point as they move silently and swiftly through the hallway. Unfortunately, they have no further intel on the Major’s exact location, but Adler estimates he’ll be in his office. He keeps an eye out for any signs or markers to indicate the direction. He guesses they are in the barracks section of the outpost, what with the lockers and small cupboards lining the walls.

Suddenly, a door in front of them opens and a soldier walks out; they’re going to be spotted. With quick thinking, Fox rushes forward and grabs the man, yanking him away from the open door. He throws one arm around his neck and the other over his mouth. Adler leaves Fox to finish that soldier and quickly marches into the room that’s just been opened; inside is another man sitting at a small table, playing cards in his hand. He glances up at the sound of movement. Adler rapidly shoots a couple of silent rounds into the man’s chest just as he begins to rise to his feet. The soldier stumbles backwards, the chair topples, and he sprawls on the floor, dead. Fox hauls in the body of the man he’s choked and dumps it on the floor.

“Fuck’s sake,” Adler mumbles. They have to hide this as best as possible, but there’s no way to clear the evidence completely. “Just close and block this room somehow.”

Back in the hall, Adler motions to one of the lockers they walked past, “You push, I’ll pull.” Working together, they slide it in front of the closed door, Fox groaning under his breath from the effort.

Adler brushes his hands on his pants, “Alright we have to find Lebedev quick; someone is going to notice.”

They persist through the building, luckily not encountering any more soldiers. A short time later, they hit a junction in the hallway.

“Keep going straight, I’ll head right,” Adler orders.

“Copy,” Fox replies and swiftly heads down the hall. Adler readjusts his grip on his rifle and continues to the right.

There are multiple doors on both sides on the hallway and he is running out of time.

_Where the fuck are the signs? I can’t risk searching all these rooms!_

All of a sudden, he spots a dark figure in front of a doorway about 50 feet away. He gets the weird feeling they are waiting for him. He creeps closer and the figure becomes clear; it’s Bell. He’s wearing the same gear from the Arctic, except…Adler squints; there’s blood stains all over his chest. He’s expressionless, not moving as Adler comes closer.

Adler is stunned. _This can’t be real. Bell is dead._

He’s two feet away when Bell turns and disappears through the door. Adler hastily reaches the doorway and eases it open a crack. Peeking through, he recognises it as an office space with floor to ceiling windows at the far wall opposite him. Between him and the windows are several lines of desks and some computers. In the middle of the room are two men; one seems to be instructing the other. The leading man has a thin pencil moustache with a mark over his eye; it’s Major Lebedev.

But Bell is nowhere to be seen.

_Did…did Bell lead me here?_

Adler retreats back from the door to grab his radio. “Fox, I’ve found him,” he whispers. “Head back to the T-junction, I’m at the western side of the building.”

“Copy, on my way,” Fox replies.

Adler readies his silenced rifle and slowly enters the room. The soldier is now typing on one of the computers with the Major watching over his shoulder.

As he raises the gun, Adler notices his reflection in the windows. And if he can see it then…

In the reflection, he locks eyes with Lebedev.

“Shit,” he hisses.

At once, Adler fires at the men and Lebedev ducks under the desk. The soldier at the computer gasps in shock as blood sprays the screen from the hole in his throat. He slumps over the keyboard.

From his hiding spot, Lebedev pulls out a pistol and begins to fire at Adler. The sound of gunfire echoes loudly through the room.

Adler winces, _so much for doing this silently._ Rushing further into the room, he flips a desk to create cover, the gear on top crashing to the ground. 

“Lebedev! Drop the gun!” He shouts. The Major gives no response except to fire more rounds into Adler’s shield.

“Adler! They found the bodies and heard the gunfire!” Fox calls over the radio. “I’m in the hall and I see a lot of enemies coming your way. I’ll try and thin them out before they reach you!” Moments later there’s shouting and gunfire in the hallway.

Crouching low and firing wildly over his shoulder, Major Lebedev darts to the far side of the room away from Adler, who’s forced to hunker down as the rounds fly.

“Enough of this,” Adler growls. He mantles his rifle on the edge of the desk and aims for a non-fatal shot to knock the target down. Unfortunately, Lebedev pulls the pin from a grenade just as one of Adler’s bullets pierces his leg. He stumbles and drops it at his feet.  
Swearing vehemently, Adler braces behind the desk and seconds later, the grenade explodes. As the dust settles, the room falls silent.

Adler groans and thumps his head against the desk, twice. He rises to check on Lebedev, but he already knows what he’ll find.

He holsters his gun and stares down at the Major’s body. It’s not a pretty sight; shrapnel has pierced his body in several places, including one really large splinter sticking out of his scarred eye. Both of his legs are severed at the knees and his body is blistered.

Behind him, Fox steps into the room. “Hallway is clear for now. Did you get Leb-oh…,” he trails off as he stands beside Adler. He whistles, “Poor bastard.”

He moves to keep watch at the door while Adler notifies the sniper team, “Lebedev is dead and the outpost is on alert. What’s the situation from the outside?”

“No action out here, I’m guessing they are all in there looking for you,” comes the reply.

“Okay, we’re going to exit via the western side and move north on the outside of the building, back to the east gate,” he explains. “Clear the way for us if you can.”

“Will do. We’ve called for exfil and the chopper is ten minutes out. Be careful, boys.”

Checking his ammo, Adler leaves the room; the hall is filled with numerous Russian bodies. “Not bad Fox,” he remarks.

Fox gives a wink, “After you.” They quickly walk towards the end of the hallway; one of the doors has a keycard slot and on the front is the word, “Exit”.

“Finally, a fucking sign,” Adler mumbles, fetching the keycard from his pocket. The sun is high in the sky now and as the door opens a wave of heat hits them.

They advance around the outside of the building, making sure to duck under windows and stay in the shade of the outpost. They hold position directly across from the east gate where they entered from while Adler checks the area, but it appears to be empty.

“Okay quick, to the gate,” he orders and together they sprint across the open terrain. Just as they reach it, many pissed off soldiers spill out of the outpost doors. Adler and Fox take cover behind the guard tower as enemy fire rains down on them. A couple of Russians drop as the sniper team get them in their sights.

“Adler, there is a series of trenches in front of our ridge, you can hold up there,” Overwatch exclaims. “We’ll cover you as you make your move.”

“Copy! Fox, you go first on my order,” Adler commands. Fox sweeps a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his clammy forehead and prepares to run.

Adler reloads his gun, “Ready…Go, go!” He leans out of cover and fires into the enemy line as Fox bolts away. Sniper fire takes out another soldier while Adler drops two more. 

Then abruptly, Fox cries out. Adler whirls around and watches as the agent staggers before slamming face first into the ground. He doesn’t move again.

“Fox!” Adler yells. He lobs a stun grenade towards the enemy line, then surges over to Fox’s body. He slides down beside him and rolls him over; he’s breathing heavily, and blood is spreading rapidly from his back. Adler immediately drags Fox into the trench as sniper fire holds the enemy back.

He tries to place Fox upright, but he slumps over again as he struggles to remain conscious.

Crouching in front of him, Adler gently shakes him, “Hey! Hey, stay with me!”

Fox only mumbles and his head falls forward.

Adler yanks out his radio, “I need that evac now!”

“Chopper is two minutes out; can he hold on?” Overwatch asks.

Blood is pooling under their legs and the desert sun is burning hot. Fox’s vibrant red hair is dulled by dirt. He coughs, weakly.

“No,” Adler admits. He cups Fox’s pale cheeks, “Hey. Come on, Fox.”

Fox doesn’t move. His eyes are closed. Adler feels his neck for a pulse, but there’s nothing.

Adler sits back on his hunches and sighs, dejected. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes hard with the heels of his palms. He lost the target and now, he’s lost a good man. From overhead, the sound of helicopter blades fills the air as their exfil arrives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Interlude: Bell**

_Images flash in his mind. Scenes moving too fast to comprehend. Red lights, blood, there’s a steel door. Adler walking away, Park in MI6 headquarters, Sims drinking alone.  
He’s pulled away, codes are decrypted, pages pinned to a board while Park isn’t looking. His black coat flies behind him, rain is pouring onto the street, Sims takes the documents. Suddenly there’s a chair with restraints, he resists, the road collapses._

_Adler appears again, grabbing him by the hand and helping him stand. Around them, a fire eternally burns. Adler smirks, everything bleeds red._

_He shouts._ We got a job to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is @playstationmademe, feel free to rant about Adler with me there ❤️


End file.
